Requiem.

Contort.
Voiceless screams.
Foetal.
Up.
Paced around.
Sweat.
Living Room.
Kitchen.
Knife; sharpest.
Table; knife kept.
Chair.
Eyes open.
Eyes shut.
Happens a billion times.
Knife on the table.
Tears.
Desperation.
Wrist.
Knife.
Unsuccessful: too afraid.
A bloodless mark on the skin
fades away in obscurity
soon to be mine.
Victory.
Loss.
Knife on the table,
life cut in half
that night a lot
died a bloodless death
A death they cannot touch
touch
cannot feel
only glance from afar
not reaching much beneath
the veneer that clouds.
No wonder they don’t understand.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s